Page 37 of Unspoken Tides

“With a dash of Salt!” Rose cried over the bluffs. “I love how sassy that sounds.”

“Salt Sisters,” Stella said softly. “It’s because of you, Hil. Because you called out to me that day on the beach. It was the loneliest day of my life. And now, we’re all here. On your veranda. Together.”

Hilary had to admit it warmed her to the core. She was single, but she wasn’t alone. She had the rest of her life ahead, with the Salt Sisters in her corner. The darkness remained in the past. It couldn’t hurt her anymore.

Chapter Fourteen

Present Day

It was remarkable how quickly things changed. Time slipped through Hilary’s fingers. Just a few days after the film budget was pulled out from under them, Max received word about a potential gig out in Los Angeles. Hilary went with him to return the yacht to the boat rental place, then took him out for a final dinner before his boat left in the morning. Over wine and white fish, they spoke about easy things, holding hands between bites. Max’s eyes glinted in the candlelight. Hilary thought she might throw up from sorrow. Already, she could imagine what happened next. He would return to Los Angeles. He would meet someone else, maybe someone younger, who could still give him a baby. He would look back at this time on occasion, maybe with nostalgia. But now, there wouldn’t even be a movie to anchor their memories. It was over.

Max spent the night at Hilary’s place. They woke up before dawn and had coffee on the veranda to watch as the sun crept over the sea. It came slow at first, then all at once. Hilary told herself not to cry. She laughed often, wanting Max to remember her laugh. She’d been told it sounded like Isabella Helin’s in some of her films. Hilary had decided long ago to love that about herself. Her mother’s laughter had been like music. Sure, Isabella hadn’t thought many things were funny. But she’d acted like she had. And that was what mattered to the public.

Max left at seven thirty to grab the eight o’clock ferry. Hilary kissed him in the driveway with her eyes closed, and he told her, “We’ll see each other soon. I promise.” But although Hilary thought Max was a trustworthy person, she’d been around the block enough not to fully believe what he said. He was a film person, after all. Film people were always making promises. They sounded beautiful.

Hilary spent that first day alone at home. She cleaned her kitchen, then took a smoothie to the veranda and sprawled out beneath the sun. She lay there for too long, her heart pounding in her ears, then scrambled upstairs to smear her face with retinol and sunscreen. On the one hand, she didn’t want more wrinkles. On the other hand, Max’s leaving and the abrupt ending of the film were enough reasons for another few creases. “Lifelines,” Stella called them.

Hilary dropped her retinol back in her black bag and rubbed her temples. Stella. Oh, goodness. When was the last time Hilary had written Stella back? She checked the Salt Sisters group chat, reading through what felt like miles of text—memes, photographs, questions about recipes, questions about “tonight’s plans.” Hilary hadn’t so much as sent a smiley face in over a week.

She’d been distracted. She’d been selfish.

Back on the veranda, properly sun-blocked and with a big glass of water, Hilary thought about the past twenty years of her life with the Salt Sisters. It had started so wonderfully. They’d been there for one another. They’d opened their hearts. But at some point—ten years ago? Eight?—Hilary had allowed the scales to tip. Just like with Isabella, and just like with Rodrick, she’d given too much of herself. She’d been there constantly for them and given very little to herself. It was a personality flaw, maybe. A therapist might have said, “You need to stop people-pleasing. You need to turn inward and ask yourself what you need.”

What did she need?

She needed sisterhood. She needed tenderness. But she also needed balance.

That night, Hilary composed a text message to Stella.

HILARY: I’m sorry that I’ve been so quiet. I feel like I’m failing you as a best friend. I haven’t known what to do with my heart and mind this summer. And lately, I’ve felt so used.

HILARY: I hope you know how much I love you.

Stella responded just a few minutes later.

STELLA: I’ve just been so worried. I know that things come and go. I was terrified that our friendship was coming to an end.

HILARY: Never. I promise you that.

STELLA: Would you like to meet up this week? Or do you have too much filming to do?

Among the Salt Sisters, Hilary had only told Stella about the film. She hadn’t yet told her about its untimely end. That was far too complicated, involving talk of Rodrick, Max, and yet another heartbreak.

HILARY: Let’s hang out. But I don’t want to talk about anything. I’m not ready.

Stella sent back a heart and a thumbs-up.

Just like old times, Hilary and Stella met on the beach the following morning for a long walk. Stella’s hair was a brighter blond than Hilary hadn’t seen in years. Stella explained she was “feeling nostalgic for the past.”

“You do look just like you did when we first met,” Hilary said.

“Plus a few lifelines,” Stella said.

“You earned them,” Hilary said, squeezing her hand.

When they got tired, Hilary and Stella sat on a big rock and watched the ocean lap up on the sands. A big black dog ran alongside his owner, an older man with a six-pack who ran without a shirt, and Stella sighed and said, “Sometimes I think about getting a dog again.”

“Jasper was the best dog in the world.”

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